Sage Advice
by bookwormwithanattitude
Summary: Damian Wayne doesn't understand why Cassandra Cain, The One Who Is All, left as Batgirl and asked someone so incredibly insipid to take her place. So he tracks her down and demands to know. But he finds out a few things about himself in the process...


_A/N: This is a fic set after Batgirl (third series) #5 where Damian tracks Cassandra down._

_He does this because of his mad crush on her. Of course, he has no idea he has a crush, being ten, so it's not really mentioned in the fic, but this is totally the real reason he tracks her down. They clash, especially since Cass sees a little bit of her childhood that she doesn't like at all in this bratty little boy!_

_  
(The Tiger Claw used is a real strike for ripping out throats. I found this out by googling "rip out throat martial arts" Since it was on the same page as the palm strike, it's probably basic – but maybe not since ripping out throats takes some doing, but we can pretend it's really rare and complicated in the DCU, like Shiva's Leapord's Paw thing- so simple in RL, but apparently the bee's knees in the DCU)_

_MANY THANKS to bluejaybirdie on lj- she basically beta'd and corrected some mistakes AND she helped me come up with the ending. She understands Damian better than I, so she was a GREAT help. She rocks!_

Damian Wayne wasn't sure why he was so fixated on hating Stephanie Brown. True, he hated a lot of people. It was a feeling that came naturally to him. He often spent half the day oscillating between fits of hatred for Grayson and Pennyworth. He found himself mildly hating half the people he saved as well, what with their squealing and sniveling and lack of even the most basic fighting skills despite the fact that they lived in a place where a fight came at you every day. But Brown was different. He didn't just despise her, he couldn't stop thinking of her. He found himself trying to understand her. And he fantasized about killing her for far longer than was healthy.

And he didn't know why. True, she was incompetent, but then so were half the people around him. Was it because she treated him with what seemed to be a mixture of pity and disgust? Was it because she had personally inconvenienced him with that ice thing? Or was it that she never bloody shut up?

But then he realized it had nothing to do with Brown herself. It had to do with who had chosen her.

Cassandra Cain. Grandfather had talked of her with pride. She had been such a triumph for the League. She has been perfection. Her skills rivaled his own. She could take a bullet without flinching, she had been a match for his aunt Nyssa, she had been the best of the best when it came to a fight. She had even managed to lead the League once.

And yet she had given it all up. She had chosen a girl infinitely below her in battle competence to be her successor. She had VALUED this girl who was so much lesser. Damian couldn't figure it out. And that just made him hate Stephanie more than anyone, for daring to be chosen when she was so unworthy. He hated that he couldn't understand it. He needed to know why.

And there was only one way to find out.

Even though he put all his resources into it, it took a surprisingly long time to find Cassandra. Apparently, she was good at keeping herself hidden. He eventually located her a couple cities over, sitting on a bench in the middle of a crowded street. He leaped soundlessly onto a tree behind her. He could only see the back of her head in this position, her short black hair fluttering in the breeze. But she was easily half a head shorter than Stephanie. She was small and lithe, her arms tightly muscled. She certainly had the physique of a fighter. But it was more that. It was the way she held herself. He could tell she was like him- a prodigy. The best of the best. He felt his heart race at the prospect of meeting her.

He heard the buzzing of her phone vibrating and she took it out of her pocket with almost inhuman quickness. He could see "CALL FROM STEPHANIE BROWN" clearly emblazoned on the small screen. Cassandra didn't answer it. She simply started at the screen. When the phone stopped ringing, a mechanical voice chirped "Voicemail full".

Cassandra tilted her head slightly, as if she were considering checking the messages. Then she said clearly "Not with you here. What do you want?"

Damian jumped so badly he nearly fell out of the tree. She had sensed him! HIM! She really was as good as they said. He composed himself and jumped down from the tree.

"I'm Damia-

"I know," she cut him off, not even bothering to look at him.

"Of course. Well, I just wanted you to come back as Batgirl," he said confidently.

"No," she replied succinctly, still not look at him, but off into the distance.

"Why on earth not? Why would you give up wearing my father's symbol? Brown is turning everything into a bloody mess without you."

Now Cassandra did turn to look at him, her hazel eyes urgent. "Is she all right?"

"What? Of course. I mean, it's just…she's an incompetent slag. I mean, honestly, she was fighting this guy called Diesel, and Grayson and I came to the rescue. She started blabbering of course, but Grayson shut her up and I ran forward to take the villain out, and then he started bleeding gasoline all over the place and threatening to explode...and what does Brown do? She FROZE us! I've never seen such incompetence! I wanted to kill the bint, honestly. You need to come back and-"

Out of nowhere, Cassandra shot out her arm and jerked Damian into the air by his shirt collar so harshly that he gagged. Instinctively he struck out at her, but she parried his blow almost casually with her free hand and held him at arm's length. He continued to struggle, trying to break the arm that was holding him aloft, but she was unyielding, like steel.

"You don't talk about my friend like that. You don't talk about killing either," Cassandra said acidly, ignoring his protests.

"Let me go!"

She threw him a few feet. He landed on his feet with a thump. She advanced toward him and every muscle in her body seemed tense with anger. He realized she could have thrown him much, much harder. But even though it might not seem like it to a bystander, she was only using the slightest amount of force. Every movement she made indicated she wanted nothing better to beat him to a pulp, yet she was restraining herself.

"I know what you are," she said simply. "I know I should hate you."

"You don't even know m-" He cut himself off, realizing to his horror he was repeating what Brown had said to him.

"I've heard enough. Your…the way you talk…" she gestured at his body and he knew she was talking about the way his movements spoke to her, "makes everything they said about you …right. You like to kill. You like to hurt …in both languages. You look down on those who help you. Who are heroes."

"I-

"You didn't listen to her. So she had to save you. You didn't like the way she did it. But she'd do it again. She's a hero. You aren't," Cassandra turned away as if that settled the matter. "Go away."

He felt anger and indignation rising in him at her attitude. She was treating him like he was _nothing. _Not even bothering to fight him properly! He was _Bruce Wayne's son. _ Nobody treated him like that.

He lunged at her, determined to force her to fight him. She spun around just as he propelled himself off the ground, and he managed to get a good kick to her chest. She stumbled back, almost falling over. But before he could even begin to think about another blow, she's regained her balance and jabbed him in the chest with a hand like a striking cobra. He was on the ground before he knew it and she was keeping him pinned down with her foot on his chest.

"Stupid," she told him simply, glaring down at him.

"Why won't you fight me?" Damian spat, struggling to get up, but Cassandra pressed her boot down a little harder in response.

"Just did," she said.

There were about ten different ways he could break her ankle and, at least five ways he could slice it off with the knife on his person, if he was fast enough. But would he be? And besides, he couldn't help but respect her. She could not only overpower him, but she did so casually. All her skill just made the question all the more pressing.

"_Why _did you leave?" he burst out. "And why did you make your replacement _Brown _of all people?"

Cassandra stared at him. "Just explained that. Stephanie is a hero. She cares. She never gives up. And she needs a chance. I trust her."

Damian snorted "But her fighting-"

"Your body might talk faster, but what it says is ugly," Cassandra snapped at him with her eyes flashing. "Stephanie's says good things. That's all that matters to me. "

Damian was getting tired of her insulting his body language. "Oh, boo hoo. I killed people that deserved to die. Well, at least I know what I'm DOING. The League taught me-"

The pressure from her boot increased so much he almost couldn't breathe.

"They taught you nothing. Not how to be Robin," she told him calmly.

"I AM Robin," he protested angrily.

Cassandra shook her head. "I knew Robins. You aren't one."

She finally took her foot off his chest.

"Stephanie…isn't the one messing things up. You are. Every day you're out there…and don't get it. You want to kill? You want to hate? Look into their eyes next time you do. See terror…then nothing."

She backed a step away. He sat up warily. "You still haven't told me why you left."

She snorted, not looking at him.

"I thought it meant something," her hand drifted to her chest and he knew she was talking about the Bat symbol. "But…it became about him. After the drug. All I cared about was… getting him to be my "father"…so desperate…and that's not what this was supposed to be about…and he maybe never cared. About the good. Otherwise he wouldn't have let any of it happen…with me. With Stephanie. With you. "

She sighed and turned to face him. "Gotham doesn't need me. It needs her. Hope. I need…I need my own symbol. I need to teach others. I was going to do that once before. Now it's time again."

She stopped suddenly and he could tell she was surprised she had talked so much, especially to him. He wondered if it was the biggest speech she had ever made in her life. Nah, he had heard she'd been pretty chatty when she was drugged.

"Can't say I really understand," he snorted, getting up and dusting himself off. "And I thought you'd understand _me_…coming from where I come from. Killing and fighting is who I am."

To his immense surprise, her expression softened at this.

"It isn't. You can be more. If you let them help you," she said softly. She knelt down a bit so that she was at his eye level.

"You have a killer's instincts, kid. Don't suppress them…divert them."

He could tell from how she said it that she was quoting somebody.

She gave him another faint smile and straightened up again.

He didn't quite know what to say. If anyone else had done said anyone of those things, he would have scoffed and dismissed them. But it was hard to do that to her for some reason.

"I'm going," she announced after a moment of silence, preparing to turn away.

"Any more sage advice?" he called after her sarcastically.

She seemed to consider the question as if it were serious.

"Listen to them," she said, and he knew she was referring to Grayson and Brown and the rest. "It's worth it." Then her mouth tightened. "Don't, and I'll show you a real fight."

With that, she disappeared into the crowd.

"Yes, well," he called. "I'm looking forward to that! And I'll show you a real fight too! With knives!"

She didn't answer, and he'd lost her in the busy street. With a snort, he spun around and stormed off. He didn't know why he'd been so interested in her. She was nothing that great, really. She'd refused to fight, and all she'd done was give stupid lectures and acted like she was better than him. And to think he'd thought she was something special! She was just like the rest of them!

Except…

She had beaten him. She'd done it without even really trying. She'd done it…casually.

And she seemed self assured about the whole thing…and so dismissive of him. Possibly she was…_better_ than him at a few things. Possibly.

Whatever. She may be a good fighter, but he was surely smarter than her. The girl barely knew how to talk or read! So why should he take her advice?

Why should he?

With this, he pushed any idea of Cassandra Cain coming back as Batgirl out of his mind. He also stopped obsessing as much over Brown now that he knew Cassandra's truly idiotic reasons for choosing her as a replacement. Brown could keep her incompetence to herself and stay the hell away from him.

Cassandra had now earned the same mild hatred he reserved for everyone else. He attempted to fantasize about killing her a few times, but those fantasies always ended with her overpowering him, so he stopped that right away.

Cassandra Cain may have thought that she'd gotten to him, but she hadn't.

***

"That was a nice takedown of Killer Croc there, Damian. I really liked how you pinned him down by the neck at the end. The strike you used looks a lot like one the League of Assassins uses for, uh, throat ripping purposes. But you converted it into a move that's entirely non-lethal. I'm impressed," Grayson told his sidekick happily, giving his usual cheerful stream of encouragement as the duo zoomed home in the Batmobile.

"Mmmm."

"Robin, are you listening?"

"Yes, Batman, of course I am. The strike is called Tiger Claw."

"Just checking. And I know what it's called, Damian, don't worry," said Grayson in an amused voice. "You used it well."

"…Thank you for noticing."

There was a short, shocked silence.

"…You're welcome," Dick replied, slightly incredulously.

Damian snorted, and looked out the red tinted window.

No, she hadn't gotten to him at _all._


End file.
